Quidditch, Wood, and Prefects Snogging
by Kaymanay
Summary: To say there was no great love lost between Myself and Oliver Wood, would be an understatemtent. The words Cat and Dog spring to mind.
1. A Less Than Perfect Day

**A Less Than Perfect Day.**

To say there was no great love lost between Myself and Oliver Wood, would be an understatement.

The words Cat and Dog spring to mind.

Oh, don't get me wrong, you could hardly say that we hated each other, because neither of us really cared about the other enough to muster the kind of energy that would take. To be honest, we do have our moments where we can be downright civil to each other. But, the fact of the matter remains that we argue, a lot. Too much, too often, to consider each other friends. If I was completely honest, I'd have to say it was due to a major clash in personalities; something that neither of us can really be blamed for. But, how often are you completely truthful about about someone you're biased towards?

Ask us who was to blame, and we would both say the other.

Wood would tell you that I'm sarcastic, loud, rude, and stubborn.

Yeah. Whatever.

I would tell you that Wood is arrogant, egotistical, controlling, and entirely too full of himself.

All of the above is true ... especially the bit about Wood.

So, as the intelligent magical beings that we are (or, well, at least I am), we have done our best to avoid each other, avoid winding each other up (yeah right), and generally keep our time at Hogwarts as peaceful as possible (no chance). We were just never meant to be more than people who (very) occasionally tolerated each other.

Or, so I thought, that is, until the interfering little sod that calls himself Fate got his (and believe me; Fate IS a man) greasy little hands all over my sodding life, and decided it needed to be royally rucked.

Don't understand? Yeah, well, welcome to my world.

* * *

Prefect meetings had to be the biggest waste of time ever. There was absolutely no point to them. We would sit through the most boring two hours of the week (and I'm including Binns here), be given a list of Prefectly duties to be carried out, of which no one would do anything assigned to them (unless it was used to aid their own Mischief making), and we would drink tea. Responsibility just isn't a well known concept to my generation.

Mostly.

There was always the odd one or two who seemed to take responsibility very seriously. Take for example: Oliver-if-I-Don't-Put-A Trillion Percent- Into- Everything-I-Do-The-Bogey-Monster-Will-Eat-Me-Wood, who did everything by the sodding book (and believe me, there is one). And as a result: I got dragged along in his really annoying wake.

Go Gryffindor.

At least, he wasn't as bad as our darling Head Boy: Percy Weasley. Now that's a face worth breaking a nail over. Or, preferably, after it's lodged itself in his eyeball. Oh to dream ... but reality awaits.

A slight shift to my left brought my attention back to the meeting at large, and I turned to look at my Prefect-In-Crime. Or, not, as was the case. I snorted derisively at him, draped comfortably over his chair, his full attention on Percy-Respect-My-Authority-Weasley, who was stood talking at the front of the room.

Morons pet.

But, my snort had obviously caught his attention though, because he was watching me out the corner of his eye now, jaw tense. I smirked. I couldn't help it, because Merlin knows I love to wind him up when there's nothing he can do about it.

A scowl creased his face, and my smirk widened into a grin.

Especially when I'm so good at it.

Over my shoulder someone else snorted too, and Wood's scowl deepened as he twisted in her chair to see who had laughed. Paige Judge, it would appear. Lovely girl; I always did like her. Sort of.

He turned back, and his glaring eyes settled on me. It was a fight and a half to keep myself from laughing outright at the look of annoyance stretched across his face. He looked momentarily as if her were going to say something, but as these things go, I was saved by the ... err, twat.

"Excuse me Children, but do you think you could behave yourselves?" Percy drawled, pompously. I shot him a nasty look.

I will if you go drown yourself in the lake.

"Sorry Perse," we mumbled turning our attention back to the Head Boy, who, it now appeared, had set up a projected slid show. Merlin. No.

I gave a soft whine. "Wood, kill me now," I muttered, and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle, and to my surprise it hadn't been a mocking one. Upon looking up at him, I discovered a genuine smile of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.

I was struck, not for the first time, by just how good looking Oliver Wood was when he wasn't scowling, smirking, or screaming at you. Because, Oliver Wood, make no mistake, was a phenomenally good looking man. And, he was well aware of this fact. Soft brown hair that curled ever so slightly, big, honey coloured eyes, a strong jaw, high cheek bones sharp enough to cut, and lips that any girl, myself not withstanding, would have killed for.

Yes, so he was entirely too good looking, and I wasn't exactly on the best of terms with him.

I do love the situations I get myself into.

Now, don't go thinking I fancy him, because I don't. At all. I'd have to be able to talk to him for any amount of time without kicking off. And, there was about as much chance of that happening as Hagrid becoming Minister for Magic. And, I certainly wouldn't want anyone else, least of all Wood himself, thinking I fancy him either. That would be bad.

"Miss West, when you're quite finished staring at Mr Wood ..." Percy again.

Well, sod it.

An hour later, I swung out of the room in a whirl of black robes, my mood hitching momentarily as I considered the impressive figure I must have made. I had one priority at the moment, and that was to put as much space as possible between myself, the class room and, most importantly, Wood.

Because, there was one, single thought swirling through my head at that moment in time: Humiliation, thy name is Sean.

As long as I could avoid Wood until after I'd suffocated myself, I'd be all right.

"West." Fantastic.

I ignored Wood's shout from behind me, and I picked my pace up slightly.

"West!" No.

I could see the tapestry of Wilbur the Warty ahead of me; there was a short cut behind it. If I could just get to it ...

"West." His voice was much closer this time, and I nearly lost my footing when a hand grabbed hold of my arm, and swung me around. For a fleeting second there was the hope that it wasn't Wood who had used his seemingly inhuman speed to catch up with me. But, alas, Life's a bitch, and there stood Misery himself. Excellent.

"Generally, when a person calls your name, it's considered polite to stop and acknowledge them."

I scoffed.

Wood, lecturing _me_ about _my_ manners? Had the man ever seen himself eat? Or, heard himself talk for that matter ...

"Yes, well, you are not a person, Wood, you are a parasite." I knew I was being unnecessarily defensive, but I was embarrassed, and I didn't want the big headed sod to think I fancy him.

Rationality: not big with me.

However, any indication of his thoughts were hidden away behind a mocking smile, and oddly glinting eyes.

"Have you ever wondered why you're single, West?" My eyes narrowed dangerously.

It's because I'm far too much woman for any of theses morons who call themselves men to handle. Obviously.

"Don't you have some plans for world domination to be cackling over? Or, cute fluffy animals to be torturing?" His smile widened, and I couldn't help the feeling that he was laughing at me.

"My point exactly." If you say so. "Look, I can't be bothered with you're obnoxious little arse today," he said dismissively, waving a hand flippantly.

"Who're you calling obnoxious, Lockhart?" Surprisingly, he ignored me.

"But we have fund-raising events to organise. So, I'm thinking we start tonight after practice, and try and get it out of the way as soon as possible. Less time I spend around you the better." The man had a point.

" I agree." Wood looked momentarily surprised at my concurrence, but seemed to recover quickly enough. The smirk was back. Well bugger.

"I might catch something off you." Cue eye roll. Very witty, Wood.

"You mean like a clue?" Woods eyebrow shot up.

"Oh, very good, West, insult me, that's mature." My own eyebrow rose to mirror his. Hypocrite.

"This coming from a person who still laughs when he hears the word boobies?" His lips twitched minutely, before immediately settling into a scowl. I smiled triumphantly. I do love being right.

"Oh sod off," he shot at me and I grinned. Your wish: my command.

"Gladly." And so, with a smug smile, I spun on my heel and stalked off, flicking the V over my shoulder as Wood called after me.

"Try not to be late for training tonight, Shit Trench."

West – 1, Wood – 0.

* * *

My feet pounded the ground. One after the other, progressively faster and faster until I was practically throwing myself around the next turn. Oxygen burned in my lungs, the cold air stung my skin, and adrenaline coursed through my body. I loved it.

As it was, I wasn't late for training at all. Actually, I was a half an hour early. After leaving the Prefect meeting I had headed straight to the tower, collected my stuff, and proceeded straight to the Quidditch pitch. And why had I done this?

So I could see the look on Wood's face when he realised he wasn't the first one there.

He probably considered it some kind of failure as Captain. First one on, last one off, and all that rubbish. Sometimes, the way he went on, it honestly felt like we were preparing for war.

Though, when you consider the bloodied mess in which I had left the pitch at the last game, anyone _would_ think we were fighting a war.

A warm, satisfied feeling stole over me as I remembered the horrified look that had crossed Wood's face upon entering the changing room to find that, not only was I there before him, but I was already dressed for training, and he was still in his robes

"Eager much?"he had shot at me, slamming his locker open and glaring at everything in sight, picking something up and viciously throwing it to the back.

Yeah, because it's your cups fault that I'm just well better than you.

"Idiot much?" I shot back, striding past him, and smiling brilliantly. This, it would seem, annoyed him even more, because the wand he had just pulled out of his robes let go a flurry of golden sparks.

"Where are you going?" he called after me.

"Away from you." Smirk "Try not to miss me too much."

I chuckled to myself as I heard him scoff, muttering darkly to himself whilst throwing, and slamming things around.

Wood was clearly wound up.

My day had not been a complete waste after all.

Despite the fact that there was still some of it to go.

Famous. Last. Words.

"West." And there was the object of my arrant joy calling me over now.

To be honest, I really should have seen it all coming.

Had I really just thought that? Wood, the object of my arrant joy? Had hell just frozen over? Surely ...

And suddenly, I was flat our on my arse, in a bloody ocean of mud, having lost my footing on the wet grass.

Ouch.

Raucous laughter rang out behind me, and I recognised its deep tone immediately. Prick.

I twisted around to scowl at Wood, and was not disappointed to find him supporting himself on the door frame, (hopefully) killing himself laughing. I growled angrily, pushing myself up onto my feet, embarrassment setting an almighty blaze in my face.

Looking back up I was glad ( and, though I'll never admit it, grateful) to see that Wood had gone back inside, and with an embarrassed sigh I wiped my muddy hands on my bare legs, and set off towards the changing room.

My face was still letting off a radioactive glow, my backside was throbbing painfully, and my heart was beating a wild tattoo in my chest. This was simply not acceptable. There was only one thing for it: Wood had to die. And just to make sure, I'd do it with my own bare hands.

The smug-faced, obnoxious, egotistical, self-centred little shi-

"WEST!"

Oh Merlin, I had gone deaf.

"Jesus, Wood! I'm right here," I ground out through gritted teeth.

Woods amused, honey coloured eyes locked onto me, and he sniggered as he observed my slight limp, and mud streaked legs. I glared menacingly.

You won't be laughing if I decide I'm in too much pain to ride my broom, Dungbrain.

But, the thought must also have occurred to Wood, because his face suddenly dropped, and he opened his mouth "Are you ..." No chance, Dicko.

"Sod off, Wood."

* * *

The wind speeds had picked up frighteningly, and I was struggling to keep any control over my broom, which seemed intent on being blown further and further away from the rest of the team. But, I was a strong flyer, I knew I'd be fine. I wasn't worried.

It was probably due to the fact that I was concentrating so hard on getting back to the rest of the team that I didn't realise just how far out I'd been blown.

It was only after Katie's terrified yell of "SEAN!" and the horrified look on her face as she pointed behind me that I looked over my shoulder, and I realised as I watched the branch swing towards me ...

_ohshitwompingwillow._

* * *

I was furious.

No. No, actually I wasn't. I was beyond furious. I was ... I was ... I was ...

"AARRGGHHH," I screamed at a random group of third years. None of whom looked remotely disturbed by the fact that Stig of the Dump appeared to be storming past them, bearing her teeth in rage.

Could nothing go right today?

It was all his fault, ALL of it. Oliver Sodding Wood. He was the captain; he was responsible for all of us. He should have called off training when he'd seen that we were losing control of our brooms. He was more worried about winning the sodding cup than ... but hang on, rewind, it wasn't we at all, was it? It had only been me.

I was the only one who had lost control of their broom. Marvellous.

I left forth another howl of rage.

I realised what a deranged picture I made: covered from head to toe in mud, hair wild, and sticking up in every direction, blood coming from my nose, and various other cuts and scratches covering my body. A rather vivid purple bruise on my jaw had started to swell, and I was fairly sure that my lip was twice its usual size.

Safe to say that I was NOT SODDING HAPPY.

I stormed through the Portrait Hole, growling rabidly at any one who dared gasp or giggle at me. I stormed up to the Seventh year dormitory, slamming the door open with a resounding thwack, and began savagely grabbing at random pieces of clothing littering my bed, including a Falmouth Falcons sweatshirt lying at the foot of it.

Because, they were quite obviously to blame as well.

I whirled around ignoring the startled stares of Alicia and Katie, who had just entered the Dorm, flushed, sweating, and panting heavily, having obviously just chased my up there.

"Sean, what ... ?"

But, I was already flying back down the stairs again, eager to put as much space between myself, and people as possible.

Now, I'm not a very rational, or particularly observant person when I'm calm, never mind when I'm angry, and that's probably (more like definitely) the reason I never noticed the person stood at the foot of the stairs, that is, until I was back on my arse for the second time that day, rubbing a small lump on the top of my head.

Could this day get any worse? No, but, Seriously?

"Christ West, I knew you were hard-headed, but this just takes the piss."

Of course it could.

Wood was still alive.

Instantly, I was back on my feet, and dodging around Wood with a speed that (had I not been too incensed to notice, certainly would have) surprised even myself.

"Oi! West!" But, I was too enraged to listen, and was once again storming out of the portrait hole in what would surely have equated to a Gale Force Ten. Wood, the stubborn git, appeared to be in pursuit.

"West, come back here!" I scoffed loudly at the warning tone in Woods voice, and vaguely realised that I had never heard him say my name so many times in one day. I was sorely tempted to change it.

"Sean, will you just slow down ..," And, once again having used some form of superhuman speed, Wood had caught up with me, grabbing the back of my mud-caked robes, and literally pulling me to a halt.

"Let go of me, Wood," I raged, struggling against his iron-clad grip, not caring that everyone in the corridor had stopped to watch the scene unfold, most of them openly laughing at my deranged appearance.

"West, will you just stop-" Wood gritted out between his teeth, obviously struggling to keep a hold of me.

"No, I won't! Will you just FUCK OFF!" Snap. And, suddenly I was flying backwards, my back connecting with Woods chest as two of his burly arms encircled my waist, and lifted my thrashing body from off the floor far too easily. It would appear, that not only was Wood capable of Superhuman speed, but that he was also bloody Hercules as well.

And, then I was being forced through a door to our left, inside of which Wood dumped me onto the dusty floor of the abandoned classroom, and turned to lock the door with his want. He whirled back around to face me; eyes flashing dangerously "Now stay there and shut up until you've calmed the fuck down," Wood growled savagely.

For some reason, I obeyed.

I remained on the ground exactly where he had dropped me: clothes still clutched in my hand, positively seething, and staring at the floor, watching the dust shifting around from my heavy breathing. Wood remained behind me, silent, obviously wanting me to calm down before he decided to speak.

We stayed like that for a while: neither of us speaking, the only sound in the room that of our own breathing, and the faint tick of a clock. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity of staring at the floor in thoughtless rage, the blood had stopped rushing in my ears, my heartbeat had returned to a relatively normal speed and the violent shaking of my hands had lessened to a slight tremble. With a shuddering breath, I lifted myself from off the floor, and dusted myself down, throwing the clothes still clutched in my hands onto a nearby desk, and finally turning to look at Wood.

He was leaning against the door, still in his training clothes, arms crossed over his chest casually, and his hair considerably wind-swept. He was watching me through curiously dark eyes, though his face remained carefully blank, and I suddenly felt like a toddler being reprimanded for throwing a tantrum in public. Which, essentially, I just had. I averted my eyes from his rather piercing stare in embarrassment.

And, finally, Wood stood too, uncrossing his legs, and dropping his arms to his sides as he pushed away from the door.

"Finished throwing your toys out of your pram then?" he asked me, voice disapprovingly quiet. I felt a stab of annoyance at his patronising tone, but found I was suddenly too exhausted to muster any true anger, and so settled with shooting him a dirty look. Wood smirked, eyes glinting mockingly.

"That was really something, West. I've never actually seen anyone throw a tantrum quite like that. I mean, that was something my two year old nephew would be proud of," Wood informed me, and I felt my face heat with shame and anger at his words. It was all right for him, he hadn't just been humiliated in front of the whole sodding team. I opened my mouth to reply, but was cut off when he held up a hand to silence me and I glared at him indignantly when he continued to speak.

"I don't want to hear it, West. We all have bad days on the Pitch," he said, voice low, and serious, eyebrows drawn into a disapproving frown, and my expression changed into one of incredulity. A bad day? Was he joking? It had been a bloody catastrophe! "But, none of us go rampaging around the school like a nesting dragon," he chastised me.

"Yeah, well, none of you lost control of your bloody brooms, and ended up getting ripped a new arsehole by a _fucking tree_, did you?" I snapped. His eyebrows rose challengingly.

"What do you expect when you're still riding a sodding Cleansweep Three? Look, Sean," he cut me off when he saw me open my mouth in outrage. "None of us is questioning your ability to ride a broom," he told me, voice placating. I scoffed, crossing my arms across my chest, and glaring. "Really, we've all seen you fly, and we all know you're bloody good, and I know that any of us would have lost control over a Cleansweep Three in those kind of winds. It's not exactly the most stable of brooms, is it?" I continued to glare at him, refusing to answer, but I knew he was right. "But, that's still no excuse." And, that's when I knew it was coming. The talk.

Wood's I'm-The-Captain-And-Therefore-Overall-Supreme-Ruler-Of-The-Universe-Voice was about to make an appearance. I suddenly wished I was back in the prefect meeting, watching Percy's slide show again.

"Now, I know you're embarrassed." And suddenly his voice was louder, and his expression had turned hard and disapproving. "But, I will NOT tolerate team members acting in the way you did tonight. The way you treated the rest of the team was beyond unacceptable." He paused momentarily, taking in the mutinous expression on my face (and also for dramatic effect, because he's a ponce). "We are supposed to work together, and TRUST one another. Not scream at everyone when they try to help you. I do not need a petulant little girl on the team who's going to take her embarrassment out on the rest of us whenever she has an accident, or makes a mistake," he finished, tone almost threatening.

I was gaping at him in a rather undignified, disgusted manner, completely shocked at what had just come out of his mouth. There was no possible way ... he wouldn't dare, he couldn't afford to ... "Are you kicking me off the team?" Wood merely shrugged his shoulders, and spread his hands out in front of him. Panic began to flow through my body.

"Unless you pull your act together," he replied. "I will replace you if I have to, West. I'm sick of your tantrums and complete disregard for anyone else on the team. You've gotten away with far too much for far too long. It's about time you fucking grew up." And with that he spun around, unlocked the door and left, leaving me to stare after him in complete scandal.

For the first time ever, I was completely speechless.

And, Wood, had apparently just put the ball firmly in my court.


	2. Friends and FundRaisers I

**AN:** Ok so, Chapter 2. This was originaly going to be twice as long, but when I was typing it up, I realised I'd have to cut it in half. So this chapter is actually in two parts. So if it seems to end abruptly, that's why. I'll try and get the second part up as soon as I can!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. And please Review!!

**Friends and Fund-Raisers.**

The next day dawned hardly any better for me than the previous one.

The night before had seen me attempting to drown myself, after locking myself in the prefects bathroom, Wood's telling off still ringing in my ears. I had soaked for a long time in the multi-coloured water, submerging my head under the water until I couldn't hold my breath any longer, whenever I felt a surge of anger or shame. However, it would appear that not even attempted suicide would go right for me on this particular day, and I departed the bathroom two hours later looking seventy years older than I have upon entering, and to the enraged yells of Colin Miller, and his girlfriend who, apparently, had decided I needed a lecture on shared bathroom usage etiquette.

Funny that, because I thought they needed a lecture on not shagging in a communal bath etiquette. Dicks.

Upon returning to the common room, my heart had broken to find Alicia, Angelina, and Katie, sitting around the splintered remains of my Cleansweep Three, attempting to put it back together. I felt a surge of affection as I watched my wonderful best friends: picking up pieces of wood, and attempting to fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle. Shame fluttered in my chest. I joined them on the floor, in front of the fire, to star forlornly at the jumble of wood and twigs that had been my first ever broom. No-one mentioned my outburst from earlier, and gratitude joined affection, and the flutter of shame, in coursing through me.

Soon, Fred and George joined us, and handed me a plate full of cakes, and a goblet of pumpkin juice they had fetched from the kitchens when they hadn't seen me at dinner. I had suddenly lost my appetite, but sat and nibbled at the cakes, and sipped from the goblet anyway. I had never felt shame like it in all my life, and my body burned with it.

We sat in front of the fire for the rest of the evening, homework and training forgotten, nibbling at the cakes, and reminiscing about our first brooms, speculating on what broom I could get to replace my broken one, and recalling the worst accidents we had ever had, or caused, on a broom.

"I still remember my second ever game," Fred was saying, a far away look in his eyes, and I found myself smiling along with him. "Went to hit a Bludger at Chambers, remember him? Yeah, well, I missed him completely, and hit Wood instead. Knocked him off his broom. Poor sod hit the ground like a sack of carrots. Fifty feet up, and all he did was dislocate his shoulder." Everyone laughed uproariously for a few moments, and then seemed to trail off uncomfortably, as if just noticing that Woods name had been mentioned. All of their eyes fell on me.

"He looked really angry," Angelina said softly, almost a whisper, and I nodded, casting my eyes downward. I had known I was going to have to talk about it eventually.

"I think he was more worried than anything," George offered, and everyone murmured in agreement. I shrugged my shoulders. I doubted that very much.

"He caught up with me in the end," I told them, never once lifting my eyes from where they watched my nail pick dried pumpkin juice out of the carpet. No one said anything, and finally I lifted my eyes to find them all watching me expectantly. "Gave me a telling off. Told me that he was sick of all my tantrums, and the way I am towards everyone, that I wouldn't be getting away with it any more. Threatened to replace me. He said that I'd have to stop acting like a petulant child and grow up if I wanted to stay on the team." Most of the faces around me registered shock, but some of them, I was surprised to see, looked angry. For example: Katie.

"He said WHAT!?" I snorted, suddenly emboldened by her indignation on my behalf.

"Yeah! Git's lucky I didn't resign from the team there and then," I said, more for show than anything else, but once again I was struck by just how lucky I was to have friends like these.

"So, what are you going to do? You're not going to quit the team, are you?" Alicia asked, sounding somewhat worried. I scoffed, spraying them all with half-masticated strawberry tart.

"Hardly! As if I'd ever let Wood be the reason I ever give up Quidditch. There is only one thing in this world that will ever stop me playing, and that is death. Specifically: my own." They all laughed appreciatively, then fell quiet once again. The air was more relaxed than it had been all night. My body, however, tensed up, and my heart began to pound against my rib-cage. I knew an opportunity when I saw one. "Wood was right about one thing , though. I ... err ..." Their eyes turned towards me expectantly, some incredulously, and I cleared my throat nervously. This was hard. "I owe you all an apology."

"Oh no! Sean no!" Alicia cut in, but I silenced her with a shake of my head.

"No! I do!" I insisted. "The way I behaved tonight was beyond out of order, none of you deserved it, you were all just trying to help me, and I blew up at you. That's not any way to behave. I was wrong, and I'm sorry." But, in spite of my apology, I still felt very ashamed. What ever happened to the truth is liberating? Everyone nodded their heads silently, and I dropped my eyes away from the small awkward smiles they were giving me. We fell back into our comfortable silence, lounging on our fronts, or our sides, picking at what was left of the cakes.

"What if you were to end up paraplegic?" Katie asked conversationally, completely out of the blue. I wasn't the only one who stared at her in bewilderment.

Eh?

"Oh no! Believe me, Sean would still find a way to play Quidditch," Angelina answered, and I laughed, grinning proudly, as she eyed me in a mixture of amusement and approval.

"Well, that's always good to know," cut in a voice from one of the armchairs behind us, and we turned to find Wood, sat, smiling at us. My mouth fell open in shock at the fact that none of us had seen him enter, or sit down so close behind us. Sneaky sod. His eyes glinted strangely when they came to settle on me. For a moment, I was sure he was about to have a go at me again. But instead, he opened his mouth and what came out was: "Practice. Tomorrow. Crack of dawn." And with nothing more said, he turned back to the parchment spread across his knees.

I couldn't fight the broad smile that spread across my face, as much as I tried.

And that is how I found myself being rudely awakened by the shrill scream of my alarm clock at precisely the crack of dawn the next morning. I groaned in harmony with Alicia, Katie, and Angelina, my arm flying to my bedside table to knock the offending clock off. It hit the floor with a thump, and immediately silenced. As one, we rose from our beds, and began to shuffle around the room, pulling on training clothes. Remembering the chill of the previous night I opted for a black vest, an old pair of scarlet bottoms from the Quidditch robes I had worn in fourth year, and an old Pride of Portree sweatshirt. I sat back on my bed; my body was in agony. My muscles were painfully tight, and I felt thoroughly battered and bruised. The pain seemed to drain the energy from me, and I blinked blearily ahead, drifting off into a sleepy daze from which I was awoken when one of Angelina's dirty socks caught me on the forehead. I let out an exhausted sigh, and bent forward, wincing as I did, to pull on the knee high protective boots we had all been issued with upon joining the team.

I watched miserably as they fished their brooms out from wherever they had dumped them the previous evening. I was still in mourning from my broken broom, it didn't matter how rubbish it was. It was _my_ rubbish broom. And finally, we were ready, glaring around moodily at each other as we shuffled out of the door and down the staircase. I shot a longing look at the the only girl in out dormitory who wasn't on the team, and so was also still in her bed: Emma Greene.

The Weasley twins were already waiting for us in the common room, looking as awful as I felt.

Looking remarkably like a pack of Zombies, we set off for the Quidditch pitch in complete silence, the only sounds to be heard were the soft tap of our boots on the stone floor, and quiet rusting of our clothes.

Wood was already at the Pitch waiting for us, looking entirely too fresh faced, and alive for this time of the morning.

It really did take his obsession to a whole new level. The boy had a serious problem. Or, maybe he was just a sadist. Or, possibly, both. That was a terrifying thought.

"West."

"Unh," I grunted, swinging my whole body around to face whoever had called my name, arms swinging ridiculously at my sides. Wood stood before me, holding out a broom, looking utterly bewildered. I dropped my gaze to the broom in his hand, and stared at it stupidly for a few seconds before he pushed it into mine.

"It was the best I could find in they schools collections. Mind, it's still better than your old one." It was testament to the extent of exhaustion that his insult never registered. I just continued to stare blankly at the broom in my hand.

My broom was broken.

"West!" My head shot up to look at Wood, who was eyeing me strangely . "Wake up." And then he turned, strode off into the middle of the pitch, and kicked off on his broom.

"Do you think anyone would question it if he were to die in a freak Quidditch accident?" One of the twins asked, I was too tired to distinguish.

"D-d-d-d-d-d-doubt it," Katie answered through a yawn, then with a half-hearted shrug, she kicked off and flew to join Wood. Quickly, I followed suit.

It was as yawned my way through Wood's especially boring pre-training talk, drawing dirty looks from him, that I suspected I might be in for a bad day.

It wasn't until Wood threw a Quaffle at my head, and asked if he was keeping me awake that I realised I might have been better off just staying in bed.

* * *

"I've never really appreciated before just how much Wood reminds me of Snape," Alicia said, stretching out her stiff muscles as we left the pitch two hours later. It was just after eight o'clock, breakfast would be finished in half an hour, and I was hungrier than a Hippogriff.

We decided to head straight for food, and get changed after, lest we miss it. And, so, we trooped into the Great Hall: Wind-swept, sweating and splattering mud everywhere. Podrick Ash, a good-looking seventh year boy, wrinkled his nose disgustedly as I dropped down on to the bench opposite him, half-way through stuffing an entire sausage into his mouth.

"'oo sthmell," he mumbled around his food, and I shot him a nasty look.

"So would you if you'd just had Voldemort beasting you around the sodding Quidditch pitch," I snapped. Several people around us gasped and choked, but Fred and George sniggered into their cereal. Of course, they _understood_. Podrick stared at me in horror, mouth hanging open and head shaking slowly from side to side.

"You know what, Sean? I think they're going to have to think up an eighth level of Hell, just for you," said Andrew Tullard, a blond sixth year, from beside Podrick. My reply was cut off however, when Katie dropped down beside Podrick and caught him under the chin, forcing him to close his mouth.

"We're not at primary school, Pod, this isn't show and tell," she told him as she pulled a plate of eggs towards her. He made a face at her, sticking his tongue out, before turning back to his food, and huffily stuffing another sausage into his mouth.

"You never heard of chewing?" a low voice asked, as a body dropped down on to the bench to my left. I barely resisted the urge to ram my fork into my eye, or theirs. It seemed I couldn't get away from Wood lately. I stiffened when his shoulder brushed mine as he reached past me for a plate of bacon, and I felt my mouth thinning out in disapproval. An amused snort brought my eyes to Daniel Price, who had taken up a place opposite Wood. Daniel was a very handsome seventh year, with dark hair, and green eyes, and was also Wood's best friend. I happened to be on very good terms with Daniel, much to Katie's chagrin, who fancied him like mad, and despite his friendship with Wood. He was smirking at me from where he was bent over his plate, eyes dancing with amusement.

Daniel had always found mine and Wood's dislike for each other enormously entertaining. I narrowed my eyes at him threateningly, but could already feel the grin beginning to pull at my lips.

"You hear about the new Tornadoes signing, Sean?" he asked me, just as I had taken a colossal bite of my toast. I shook my head as I attempted to swallow my food whole. "You haven't? I thought you supported them?" I gave him an odd look and Wood snorted into his goblet.

"Everyone knows she's a Pride of Portree Girl," Wood informed him very matter of factly, shovelling more bacon into his mouth. Both Daniel and myself turned surprised eyes on him, as he obliviously continued to shovel food into his already over-stuffed mouth. We gawked at each other for a few moments, apparently both equally astounded as the other at Wood's apparent knowledge of my preferred Quidditch team. Daniel sat back and cleared his throat uncomfortably, still eyeing an oblivious Wood suspiciously. Moron. _Moron._

"So you'll ... err ... be excited about signing Murphy, then?" he asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Wood, though still looking somewhat shell-shocked. I shrugged and turned back to my toast.

"You're not?" Podrick burst out incredulously, making me jump. "But, he's a world class player, you's were lucky to have got him. He's amazing!" He implored, loudly.

"No, he's entertaining," I countered. "There's a difference." And out of the corner of my eye I saw that Wood had looked up from his breakfast to watch mine and Podrick's discussion, because Merlin knows he couldn't help himself where Quidditch was concerned. Podrick was back to open mouthed incredulity.

"But you – he's just – don't know what – he's sensational!" Podrick finally breathed, and several people around us snorted into their breakfasts, including Wood. I gave my shoulders a quick twitch of a shrug.

Surely Podrick wouldn't make it _that_ east for me.

"If you say so." Podrick appeared to be having some kind of a fit, and his fork fell to his plate with a loud clang. Apparently he _would_ be making it that easy for me. I could feel Wood's shoulders shaking with laughter beside me, but secretly, I hoped he was choking on his bacon.

"The man is like a God," Podrick growled out, and the Weasley twins, who had lost what little restraint they had, fell about roaring with laughter. Weaklings. Pod seemed not to notice them, and kept his murderous glare locked on me. "Explain yourself," he demanded hoarsely. I smirked at Daniel, who was grinning at me from behind his goblet. Winding up Pod was far too easy. And far too entertaining.

"Murphy is a very impressive player," I started nonchalantly, waving my fork around airily, and Pod's eyes narrowed, "the first time you watch him. But its the same moves all the time. He just gets a bit boring, and well ... predictable," I finished, with a a patronising look to the purple coloured boy sitting opposite me. He sat quiet, not moving, not even breathing. He stayed like that for several, very long moments.

Was he dead? Merlin, I hoped not. That would mean the only person I had left worth tormenting was Wood, and he didn't bite as easy as Pod.

"No," he rasped out.

"No?" I asked innocently.

"NO!" Pod all but yelled, bringing his fist down on the table angrily, and the tension broke. Everyone collapsed forward laughing hysterically. Pod glared around at everyone traitorously, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my lips as he pouted petulantly into his breakfast. Well. Fun.

"Brilliant!" A voice to my left chuckled in my ear, and I shivered as Wood's breath trickled the side of my neck, bringing the skin up in goosebumps. I waited until he had turned away to bring my hand up and rub softly at the sensitive flesh of my neck, feeling rather confused as my heart hammered in my chest. It must have been the surprise; I hadn't been expecting it, you see? He had startled me. Feeling someone's eyes on me I raised my head to see Daniel, looking between myself and Wood, an eyebrow raised speculatively. My eyes widened in panic, and Daniel smirked.

Bugger.

* * *

It was a Saturday, and not a Hogsmeade one, and it was just after nine in the morning, and I already had nothing to do. But it wasn't just me, no-one had anything to do. Well, there was always homework, but since when have any of us ever done homework on a Saturday? We were sprawled out at the back of the common room, all the seventh years, minus Percy, who was off "being Head Boy." Idiot. As if we don't know what that means. But we had a replacement: Frankie Le Canvey, a red-headed boy with the worst case of split-personality I had ever seen. Usually, he was loud, obnoxious and a terrible trouble-maker. Today, he appeared to hate everyone, as he had yet to say a word to any of us, and instead ignored us all and was reading. Which of itself was not very characteristic of Frankie. Or anyone in our year, minus Percy and Emma. And a select few of the Ravenclaws.

Alicia sighed. I sympathised. We needed some entertainment.

My eyes immediately sought out Podrick, who was curled into the end of a couch, apparently still brooding about earlier. I frowned. Well, that ruled him out; he was no fun to tease when he was in moods like this. My mind drifted back to breakfast, and to Podrick's tantrum, and a smile tugged at my lips. That had been brilliant.

"_Brilliant." _Wood's whisper came back to me, and the skin on my neck rose again, almost as if he had been breathing on it then. My stomach squirmed uncomfortably, and my hand moved to rub my neck again of it's own accord. I frowned. What was wrong with me? Wood wasn't supposed to be the cause of Goosebumps and belly squirming. Wood was annoying, and arrogant, and ... and annoying! I nearly rolled my eyes. I have such a wicked way with words.

Again, the feeling that I was being watched stole over me, and I knew who it was without having to look up. I groaned inwardly, realising what I must have looked like.. My eyes met Daniel's knowing smile, and my face dropped into a scowl. No, no, no, no, no.

No!

His mouth twisted into a smirk, and his pale green eyes flitted from myself to Wood. My eyes instinctively followed.

And I nearly jumped out of my skin. Bollocks.

Wood was watching me from where he was sprawled out in an armchair, an amused smile playing around his lips. My hand dropped from my neck immediately, and my face flushed beetroot. I dropped my eyes, embarrassed, to watch my hands twist nervously in my lap. But, no, I would look at him, I wouldn't show weakness. I'd look the smarmy sod straight in the eye.

I raised my eyes to his again, trying hard to keep my face expressionless, though I could feel my cheeks burning red. He had raised an eyebrow challengingly, the amused half-smile still playing around his lips. I was sorely tempted to hit him. We stayed like that for a few more moments, staring at each other, his expression mocking and me blushing furiously, before he opened his mouth and broke the tension. "Fund-raisers," was all he said.

Fund-raisers? What? What did he mean? Was he talking in code?

"You in there, West?" His mocking smile had grown into a full blown grin at obviously having caught me off-guard, and I shook myself free of my stupor.

"Fund-raisers?" I echoed hoarsely, and would have rolled my eyes at my astounding vocal skills, if it wouldn't have make me look like a lunatic. At least I still had control over that. Sort of. Daniel, I was surprised to see, was eyeing Wood in disapproval.

"We're supposed to come up with ideas for a fund-raiser," Wood explained, obviously enjoying himself very much. My mouth formed an 'O' of acknowledgement and my mind seemed to come back to me. I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"Do we have to do that now, Wood?" Only, it would mean talking to you and to be honest, I'd rather eat a Flobber Worm.

Not that I was going to say that out loud, because after the little staring-war, that would just have given Daniel more reason to think I fancy him. And I really, really don't.

"Like I said yesterday, sooner we get it done, sooner I'm away from you. I might get something off you, y'know?" he threw out, and I watched Daniel roll his eyes behind Wood.

"You mean like a brain?" asked the dark haired boy in a bored voice. A brilliant smile broke out over my face and I sat up straighter, laughing.

"That's what I said!" Daniel sent me a conspiratorial wink, grinning.

"Oi," Wood reprimanded Daniel, who shrugged. "You're supposed to be my mate," he whined petulantly. Mature.

"How old are you, Wood?" I found myself asking, and Wood turned his glare on me.

"Older than you," he bit out. My smile widened. Too easy.

"Well act it then," I told him, raising an eyebrow patronisingly, pleased with the turn this whole exchange had taken. Daniel was still grinning at me, and Wood slouched back into his armchair moodily, having no reply.

"Fund-raisers," he barked out. I turned my face to everyone else who had been watching us for want of nothing else to do.

"So, what do you think then?" I asked them. "What would you pay money to buy, do and see?"

* * *

We spent the majority of the morning throwing ideas around for the fund-raiser, and even Frankie had pulled himself out from within his PMS-fuelled fog to take part every now and again, but was not back to ignoring us. Most of the ideas were ridiculous, but were still fun to talk about, and some were actually quite good, surprisingly. Soon, we had a fairly sizeable list of ideas to present to Percy the following Friday. Wood, I could tell, was begrudgingly impressed with my idea to ask the other seventh years. I was merely impressed that I had managed to trick everyone into doing the work for us, and they were none the wiser.

"Right, so what have we got on the list then?" Wood asked from where he was sprawled over an armchair. I looked over to Emma, who I had convinced to take on the role of scribe via the argument that she had nicer hand-writing, and that I would doodle all over the page

Thank Merlin for OCD tendencies.

The blonde cleared her throat importantly, bulging green eyes glaring around menacingly, as if making sure everyone's attention was on her. Pod stiffened; the poor boy was terrified of her. Satisfied that she did, indeed, have everyone's attention, she returned her eyes to the parchment spread across her knees and compulsively straightened it out. Twice. Angelina's fingers twitched reflexively.

"We have thus far agreed upon," she stated nasally, not a wholly unpleasant sound if you hadn't lived with her for six years. "Pie the prefect, Guessing games and competitions including, but not exclusive to:" Everyone groaned, and Angelina gripped the cushion sat on her knees. "Weight, amount, name, and price. Beauty pageants to include: Eyes, smile, over all appearance, and _personality_," she stressed, eyeing the boys furiously. "Talent competitions, test your strength, human auctions, and Food, drinks and crafts stalls," she finished, straightening out the parchment again. Angelina leant forward and snatched the sheet from out of Emma's hands. Wood was nodding. Emma was scowling. I was fighting hard not to laugh.

"That should keep Percy happy," Wood half mumbled to no one in particular. As far as I was concerned it would have to do, because I'd be buggered it I was actually going to put any effort into this.

"I still don't see why we can't have the Kissing Booth," Podrick grumbled, and I rolled my eyes disgustedly. The boy was such a wretch.

"We vetoed the idea of a Kissing Booth," Emma offered, protuberant eyes focused unblinkingly on the fair-hared Irishman, who was shrinking back into his seat, horrified. "Because we agreed that the Head By would not be in favour of it." Her voice rose in volume and pitch towards the end of her sentence, making her sound as deranged as she looked. Podrick nodded, seemingly terrified, as Emma continued to stare at him. I gave a loud cough in a valiant effort to cover a snigger.

"We might be able to ..." Wood trailed off, eyebrows drawn in, stroking his bottom lip pensively and an odd look creasing his features. We watched him expectantly for a few moments, but he continued to stare into space.

"Might be able to what, Wood?" I prompted and his shoulders jerked slightly as his overly bright amber eyes met my blue ones.

"We could get Percy to agree to it without him actually knowing what he was agreeing to," he explained, and my eyebrows raised incredulously. Percy didn't even approve of holding hands in public, never mind kissing. His head had nearly imploded when he caught Jack Courte giving his girlfriend a good-bye kiss outside of Transfiguration the other day. Actually, I'm not even sure Percy knows where babies come from ...

"How do you work that one out?" But Wood didn't answer me, he grinned roguishly, bright eyes still locked on mine. I pursed my lips. He really was one of the biggest half-wit's ever.

"Tell me, Wood. If by some prodigious miracle you can get Percy to agree to a Kissing Booth, who were you planning on putting in it?" I narrowed my eyes dangerously, almost daring him to say me, but Wood's grin widened to a smooth smile and he swept his eyes from me to Angelina, across to Katie, over Alicia, and finally to settle back on me. I raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"If I'm willing to allow myself to be auctioned off like cattle, then I think you can give out a few kisses!" Wood said pointedly.

"I agreed to being auctioned off as well," I reminded him. Wood shrugged. Obviously it was more of a hardship for his highness.

"I dunno, Sean. I think it could be fun." Surely I was hearing things. I turned to stare at Alicia, gob smacked, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"You wouldn't think it was fun if Flint were to walk in!" I pointed out. I was satisfied to see a hybrid horrified-disgusted expression cross her face. Served her right if she ended up having nightmares. A ball of parchment collided with the side of my head.

"Don't listen to Sean," Daniel told Alicia, ignoring my outraged glare. "We'd make sure Flint didn't go anywhere near the kissing booths. We'd make sure to weed out the unworthy. And of course, we would have a price befitting such loveliness as your beautiful selves: five Galleons a kiss!" he soothed the girls, smiling charmingly, and my scowl deepened when they all smiled back.

"So we can count you all in, then?" Wood asked them, and my so-called-friends all nodded traitorously. Wood's eyes found mine again, glinting challengingly, odd expression back on his face, a dark brow raised in question. For a moment, I contemplated telling him to get lost, but then my eyes found my friends: puppy dog eyes, and batting eyes lashes out in full swing and I knew there was no way I could deny them; I couldn't abandon them to this, we did everything together. Besides, what's the worst that could possibly happen? I dropped my head with a heavy sigh, and nodded, defeated.

"Excellent," Wood breathed, grinning wickedly, and leaning forward to add the Kissing Booth to the list. Emma watched in horror as Wood scrawled the idea at the bottom of the list, a funny gurgling sound issuing from the back of her throat.

My body dropped back against the couch and I blinked stupidly ahead, not really seeing whatever I was looking at, drowning out the conversations around me. A feeling of dread had begun to fill me, and I couldn't help but think that I had just made a mistake. A. Very. Big. Mistake.

**A/N2: **So there you go, mostly new character introductions, and a bit of Sean Character establishment. Not very exciting, I know. Anyway I'd love to hear what you think. And favourite quotes Love.

Kay.


	3. Fights and Facism II

**A/N:** Ok, I'm sorry this took longer to get out than I intended. Life got busy, and I got distracted by other stories that I'm writing. But it's here. I hope you enjoy it:

* * *

**Chapter Three: Fights and Fascism.**

The afternoon found me up in my dormitory, sprawled out on my back and procrastinating. Wood's copy of _Which Broomstick?_ lay by my head, innocently catching the light filtering in from the window opposite me. I knew I had to look for a new broom eventually, but to do it so soon after breaking my old one seemed somewhat disrespectful to me. It had, after all, been my first broom, and that kind of bond was unbreakable. For Wood to expect me to just move on so quickly, so uncaring, so coldly ...

I expelled an impatient sigh. I was a joke. It was time to stop being pathetic and dramatic. The sooner I started looking for a new broom, the better. I couldn't keep riding one of the school brooms. They were, simply put, shit. I needed something faster. It was embarrassing whenever I was outstripped by one of the Weasley Twins. So needs must; it was time to move on. I rolled on to my front, supporting myself on my elbows, and pulled the magazine towards me. The front page was taken up by a moving picture of the most beautiful broom I had ever seen: The Firebolt. How I wished I had a small fortune sitting idly in a vault somewhere, just waiting to be spent on this broom. And the look on Wood's face if I were to turn up to training with it would have kept me happy for many, many years.

I stared down at the picture morosely, affording the Firebolt one last, longing look and turned the page.

And then all Hell broke loose.

The door to the dormitory flew open and all four of my room-mates flooded into the room in a cacophony of shrill screaming and ultra-sonic sound that turned out to be them arguing.

Nothing new there, then.

I attempted to tune them out, staring unseeing at the page in front of me and doing my best to ignore the ringing in my ears.

Really. Wasn't. Working.

"I wasn't flirting with him," Alicia was insisting, and a scoff that could only have come from Katie was all I needed to know that this was about, none other than, Daniel Price.

"I'm not blind, Alicia," Katie argued back rather viciously. "I saw you talking and laughing with him at lunch."

Because Agrippa forbid he should talk to people.

I snorted, when I really shouldn't have, because I obviously don't know what's good for me.

"Don't get me started on you," Katie growled, spinning to face me, and glaring accusingly. My eyes widened in bewilderment.

"What did I do?" I asked innocently, and somewhat idiotically. Katie's glare hardened.

"You fancy Daniel!" I stared, dumbstruck for a moment, before collapsing forward onto the bed in peals of laughter. "What, exactly, is so funny?" Katie asked shrilly.

"I do not fancy Pricey," I told her, voice muffled in my quilt. It was really quite absurd. Me fancying Pricey would be like me fancying my older cousin. Not brother, I couldn't honestly say I respected him enough to consider him brother-like. As much as I liked him, he was still Wood's best friend.

"Oh really?" Katie asked in the same shrill voice, arms akimbo. I should have just cut my losses and ignored everyone.

"Really," I relied flatly, flipping over on my bed to face her.

"Don't give me that," Katie spat, hand flying dangerously close to Angelina's nose. "I saw the two of you. You were all over each other at breakfast, and this morning in the common room." I honestly didn't have the faintest idea what she was on about. This, however, tended to be the case ninety nine per cent of the time.

A long fingered hand gingerly took hold of Katie's shoulder and Angelina took a timid step closer to the blonde. "Look, Katie, no one here fancies Daniel except you, least of all Alicia or Sean." Katie snorted disbelievingly, and Angelina shot me a warning look.

"Err, yeah, that's right, Katie. I don't fancy Pricey, honestly!"

Katie looked slightly less deranged now, but she kept her suspicious gaze on me. "Why do you keep talking to him then?" I looked at her incredulously. She couldn't be serious, could she? No, apparently she really was.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce Katie Bell; best friend, star chaser, straight O-student, and psychopath.

"Because he's my mate," I told her. Katie turned a disbelieving look on Angelina, who gave her a meaningful look. It was my turn to be suspicious. The last time there had been a meaningful look, I had ended up snogging a Hufflepuff that looked remarkably like a troll.

This wasn't bound to be good.

"What was that all about?" I asked, eyeing them unsurely. Suddenly, Katie, Alicia and Angelina all averted their gazes, finding interest in something or other around the room. From behind Alicia I could see Emma sat on her bed, watching the whole exchange with mild interest. Easy meat.

"Emma, do you know what's going on?" I commanded, and the blonde girl looked momentarily panicked, then nodded, sending the other three an apologetic grimace. I raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue. The blonde cleared her throat and ran her hands across her bed covers, straightening out imaginary wrinkles. Angelina's hands twitched reflexively. "They thing you fancy Oliver."

They think ... I ... "What?"

"They thing you fancy Oliver Wood," Emma repeated, her eerily green eyes seeming to bulge out of her head even more than usual. I turned my own incredulous blue eyes on the other three girls. Absolutely barking.

"Why would ... what ... earth ... how ... where did you," I spluttered at them, momentarily lost for words.

I did not fancy Wood.

"What, on God's good green earth, _ever_ made you think that I fancy Wood?" I asked them, and wondering vaguely how we had ever got to the stage that I was saying the word 'fancy' and name 'Wood' in the same sentence.

Must obliviate.

"It's just the way you've bee acting around him lately," Alicia explained.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "How have I been acting?" Was my desire to see him dead not apparent enough? Did I need to step up the homicidal rages a notch?

"Well, you turn into Alicia every time you look at him," Angelina explained, almost apologetically.

"What do you mean, she turns into me?" Alicia asked bewildered. Angelina sniffed dismissively and turned to face the dark-haired girl.

"You are well aware of my opinion on your blusher usage," Angelina informed her primly. Alicia crossed her arms across her chest and cocked a hip.

"Excuse me, there is nothing wrong with my blusher," Alicia trilled. Angelina snorted.

"You look like you let a clown apply it," Angelina shot back.

"This coming from someone who uses so much mascara, she's glued her lashed together before!" Ha, I remember that. Also, the reason I don't wear make-up regularly.

"At least mine are natural!"

"Unlike your hair!" I could see this getting very ugly, very quickly. And if the looks on Katie's and Emma's faces were anything to go by, I'd be the only one attempting to break it up. So I pitched myself up off my bed and forward between the quarrelling girls now squaring up to each other.

"Ladies, ladies," I placed a hand on each other their shoulders and applied a little bit of pressure to keep them apart. "Let's calm down, yeah?" I offered, but was ignored at they pushed forward towards each other again. I sighed, I knew exactly where this was going, and yet, for some unknown reason, I did not leave them to it and run for dear life.

"Hag." That was Angelina.

"Toad." Alicia.

And then they were scrabbling for each other, nails scratching at anything within their ridiculously sharp radius. Which, considering I had placed myself directly between them, included me. I hissed when someone's hand connected with my bruised and swollen jaw, growling as I tried to keep them from mauling each other.

"Slag!"

"Hussy!"

I wasn't sure who had screamed what, and I didn't particularly care. The movements of their hands had reached colossal speeds, frequently slapping and smacking my already bruised and battered body. Eventually, because as my life goes it was bound to happen, one of their talons caught a gash on the side of my neck from the night before, and I hissed in pain as I felt the warm, tell-tale trickled of blood make its way down into the neck of my sweatshirt. The world seemed to freeze.

Right then. Fuck 'em.

With inhuman strength I thought only Oliver Wood possessed, I shoved them away from me with a choked yell, and they both fell to the floor in two, very undignified heaps. I looked to both of them in a mixture of incredulity and sheer anger.

"Enough," I growled out, now utterly furious, as the side of my neck began to throb painfully. "You are not going to fight because of Oliver _fucking _Wood."

Because it was quite obviously Wood's fault. _Everything_ was Wood's fault.

They were glowering at me, attempting murder with their eyes, but my neck was hurting too much to really care. To be honest, _they_ deserved to die.

"No, it's not Oliver's fault," Alicia contradicted me. I rolled my eyes. Of course it was, the girl was obviously blinded by her anger; she wasn't thinking straight.

"Yes it is, he's why you started arguing. You were talking about him before you both went completely freako!"

I don't know why I wanted them to be angry at Wood so much. All I knew was that I had been beaten up for the second time in two days, and it was Wood's fault. Again.

"No, she's right," Angelina hissed from where she was sprawled out on the floor. "It's your fault. You're the one who fancies him-"

"_I do not fancy Wood!_"

"-we were talking about your bloody cheeks! If you didn't fancy him you wouldn't have been blushing, and if you'd never blushed we'd never have had the conversation that started this. It's your fault!" They were both glaring at me, teeth bared and a glint in their eyes not unlike the one Wood got whenever he was having one of his little pre-game episodes. I was having trouble understanding their reasoning here. Why couldn't they see that Wood was to blame?

As you can see, we're all very much on the same wave-length when it comes to rationality. I think it's why we all get along so well.

"You're both daft!" I told them, shaking my head. Neither of them said anything and continued to glare at me. I was starting to feel uncomfortable under the anger of their gazes; feeling slightly like a trapped animal. Which, essentially, I was.

I backed away from them slightly. Despite the fact I knew what was about to happen, I couldn't move.

They pounced.

They landed on me at exactly the same time and I flew backwards, knocking my head off my trunk with a painful thud. I lay there on the floor for a second, allowing myself to wallow in momentary self-pity, before Angelina and Alicia were slapping and scratching at me, snarling.

Well then.

With an animal like growl, I tried to launch myself forward, which only resulted in myself head butting Alicia, because Angelina was sitting on my legs. This obviously wouldn't do. I began to hit out at anything I could reach, twisting my legs madly, trying to break free from beneath Angelina. With a vicious kick that left my knee's and ankles throbbing, I was free, and we rolled, hitting the side of my bed with a thump, still clawing madly at each other.

Katie and Emma gasped and the spell was broken. Emma jumped from her bed, running for the door, letting off a high-pitched squeal. Her footsteps pounded down the staircase, followed by a faint yell of "fight!" There was a momentary lull, where we all turned to look at the door, and then suddenly there was a cacophony of sound as a dozen pairs of feet flew up the staircase to watch and jeer from the door way.

Katie, however, had broken out of her stupor to yell angrily at us, before throwing herself forward to break us up.

"Oi! No! Stop it!"

This only resulted in adding a fourth person to the tussle, and now the four of us were flailing around on the floor, trying to do as much damage as possible , oblivious to the chants and jeers of the gathering crowd.

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped me by the upper arms and started to pull me out from beneath the pile of bodies. I was back on my feet, rage pounding through my my body as I tried to free myself from whatever barrier was holding me back. Angelina, Katie and Alicia were on their feet, trying to free themselves as well.

"What the fuck is going on here?" A low voice yelled from behind me, and I heard a door slam. I stilled, as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown about me, realising that the barrier holding me back was actually a person, and that I wasn't the only one being restrained. The arms around my shoulders and waist tightened as if expecting me to suddenly fly forward, but I stayed still despite the rage that was still flowing through me.

Katie, who was being restrained by Daniel, was currently trying to get at Angelina who, from what I could make out between Katie's swearing, was the reason for the scratch on her cheek. I don't know what was wrong with her, it looked dashing. Katie didn't seem to realise who it was that had a hold of her, because I imagine her facial expression would have been completely different if she had. Or the thought might have occurred to me if I had been capable of thinking anything other than "Kill, maim, cripple.'

We all appeared to be coming back to our senses now, because we had all stopped struggling against whoever was holding us back and were staring around at each other in shock. The boys holding the other girls seemed to relax slightly. "Should we let them go?" Podrick asked from where he had his arms wrapped tightly around Alicia, who was staring at me in horror.

"No, you know what they're like," Fred replied from his position behind Angelina. It was at times like these that I noticed irrelevant, stupid things, like just how much they had all grown. Or maybe we had shrunk.

"Now, does someone want to tell us _why_ you all saw fit to start punching lumps out of each other?" George asked, looking pointedly at each of our injuries in turn; lingering on my face, and a gauge in Angelina's arm.

"What was it, West?" the voice behind me, Wood, said. "Didn't think you were quite injured enough? Wanted to make an even bigger mess of yourself?" He have me a little shake, and I felt my anger at Wood spark again.

I hadn't _asked_ them to beat ten shades of shit out of me.

It was Alicia who voiced this thought, though.

"She never asked us to attack her, Oliver." Her eyes dropped to mine, and in the look that we shared, I knew everything was fine between us. We were just like that.

"So, is anyone actually going to tell us what happened?" Daniel asked, tone disapproving, and under his gaze I suddenly felt like I had been caught fighting by a teacher. Katie was a lucky, lucky girl, because he definitely had the disciplinarian thing going for him. Still didn't fancy him, though.

"It was nothing-" I started to say, but was cut off when a choking sob broke through the room, and we all turned to stare at Katie, who was being supported by a horror stricken Daniel as she sobbed into his jumper.

"Err ..."

"'S all my fault," she mumbled thickly as Daniel awkwardly patted the back of her head. I didn't know whether I wanted to laugh at the look on Daniel's face, or run to Katie. I decided the latter would be more diplomatic, but once more found my way blocked by Wood's burly arms.

Angelina let forth a stream of expletives, as did Podrick who was hoping on one foot. It appeared Angelina and Alicia weren't getting away either.

"Let us go, she needs a hug," I growled out.

"Pricey's giving her a hug," Fred replied, and all three of us stopped struggling at once as identical sly grins blossomed across our lips. Of course he was ...

"Shouldn't have accused you-" Katie continued to mumble into Daniel, who now looked less like he was holding a ticking bomb, and slightly more comfortable now that he was sure she wasn't going to attack him.

I jumped when George clapped his hands together.

"Ok, so now we're getting somewhere. Who did you accuse, and of what?" But Katie didn't answer him and continued to hiccough into Daniel's shoulder. Alicia shot George a dark look.

"None of your business." The red head rolled his eyes.

"We're just trying to sort this out, and to to do that we need to know what happened." But no one answered him, we just continued to stare at the sobbing Katie.

Finally, it was Daniel who broke the silence with a soft clearing of his throat. "Ollie, mate, maybe you should get her cleaned up," he said, pointing at me with his chin, grimacing as his eyes roved over my face. There was a murmured agreement behind me and Wood's arms slowly released me. I swayed slightly on the spot, and Wood's hand shot out to steady me. I was suddenly acutely aware of how much pain I was in now that the adrenaline and anger was gone. Wood took hold of my shoulders and steered me around towards the bathroom. I tried to shirk off his hands, but they retained a firm grip.

"I can walk on my own, Ollie," I sniggered, and I could feel Wood rolling his eyes behind me as he lifted a hand to smack the back of my head lightly.

"Less cheek, dipshit."

Inside the bathroom, he lit the torches in their brackets with a wave of his wand and the room was bathed in light. I was suddenly glad I had decided to tidy up the bathroom after we had showered earlier. We stood just inside the door for a few moments, Wood looking around the room, perhaps comparing it to they boys's one, and me watching him in amusement. When his eyes met mine, he looked slightly surprised, as if he hadn't expected me to be there. He frowned, eyes glinting, and shook his head, taking hold of my arm and pulling me along behind him, sitting me down on one of the marble sides.

"You look like shit, West," he muttered, though there was no amusement in his voice, and a frown still creased his brow. With a last look at me, he set about filling a sink and conjuring clean cloths.

I looked across from me at the opposite wall, where a toilet and another row of sinks stood. A mirror ran the length of the wall, same as the one behind me, and I reeled in shock as I finally got a look at myself.

Wood was right, I looked like shit. Actually, I looked worse. To be honest, I had to give Wood huge credit for being restrained and diplomatic enough to have used the word shit. It was horrific.

What part of my face wasn't currently smeared with blood was already bruised or starting to. One side of my neck was wet and sticky with blood, and still appeared to be bleeding, whilst the other side was red where a hand-mark shone up against my pale skin, and scratch marks ran down the length of it.

I heard the water stop and turned to find Wood watching me strangely. I didn't like the way he was looking at me; pitying almost. I didn't like the lack of anger or annoyance or mocking in his expression. I didn't know how to handle this side of Wood. I didn't know how to react or what to expect, so I turned my face away and stared ahead.

I heard him dip a cloth into the water and ring it out, but still hissed when it made contact with my skin. He wiped the blood from my face with a gentle pressure and long sweeping motions which had me closing my eyes and breathing heavily. It never occurred to me that he didn't have to do this by hand, that he could have used his wand. But then again, I don't think it occurred to him either.

"I think it looks a lot worse than it actually is," Wood murmured, voice soft with concentration. I tilted my head to look at him, and his eyes flickered to mine briefly before returning to where he ran the cloth over my jaw. The uneasiness in my stomach seemed to intensify, and I felt uncomfortably warm under the scrutiny of his gaze. He had never paid this much attention to me before and it was more than a little unnerving. His eyes flickered to mine, almost nervously, and back again. A half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"You're going to have to stop getting into fights,West. This is the second time in two days I've had to look after you."

Now this was more familiar territory. I grinned, and winced, immediately regretting the move. "You did not look after me yesterday! You man-handled me, told me off, and threatened to kick me off the team," I reminded him. He snorted and tilted my head the other way so he could clean the other side of my face.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it!"

"I deserved to be man-handled?" He shrugged and smirked. I rolled my eyes.

We fell back into silence; me staring into space and Wood diligently working at cleaning my face.

"Why didn't you go to Madame Pomfrey last night?" I looked at him again, he was eyeing a particularly nasty cut above my eyebrow, which had only been made worse by today's aggravation.

"I don't know. It never really came into my mind to do so, I suppose." I shrugged and Wood nodded.

"So are you going to tell me what happened today, then?" I dropped my eyes, feeling like a little Witch caught playing with her Father's Wand. I couldn't help but smile, though, as familiarity warmed through my chest. This was Wood's Prefect/Quidditch Captain voice; I could handle this. Easy Peasy.

"Like I said, it was nothing-" Wood cut me off.

"I don't want to hear it, West." I sighed.

"No, honestly, it was over nothing. They were talking about me blushing today, Angelina made a comment about Alicia's blusher, who make a comment about Angelina's mascara, who make a comment about Alicia's fake eye-lashes, who made a comment about Angelina's extensions, then I got the blame when I stepped in to mediate because this whole thing, the argument, started over me blushing, and then Katie ended up getting involved because she was trying to break us all up," I finished, and was pleased to find Wood staring at me in a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"There is no way you lot ended up gauging the fuck out of each other over that. Not even you four are that pathetic," he scoffed. I quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't kind yourself, Wood. Of course we are." An easy grin slid onto his face.

"Don't look now, West, but I think you might actually be acting friendly towards me." I snorted.

"You're fixing my face for me," I pointed out. Wood smirked and I heard him mutter something that sounded remarkably like: "some things are un-fixable." Prat.

"So what was Katie talking about? She shouldn't have accused who, and of what?" I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"She's convinced that everyone's after the bloke she fancies." Wood grinned, eyebrows raised. "Paranoid."

"Has she tried telling Pricey yet?" I stilled and watched my Quidditch Captain carefully.

"I never said she fancies Pricey," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"You didn't have to say it, she's made it perfectly obvious herself." My mouth formed itself into a perfectly defined 'O'. Well then, no use pretending.

"Do you think he knows then?" Wood snorted again.

"Doubt it, he's hardly the most observant or perceptive person in the world, is he?" I felt my cheeks redden. He always seemed to catch me staring at Wood at the worst possible times. Or maybe I was just really obvious.

"You'd be surprised," I mumbled. Woods eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing.

"So do you think she's going to tell him?" I shrugged, wincing a bit as the tightened skin of my neck pulled on the laceration.

"I don't know, she might, do you thing – what?" Wood cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I need you to take your sweatshirt off." One of my eyebrows rose. "So-so I can clean your neck," he stammered out by way of explanation. Despite my own initial uneasiness, I found his own discomfort highly amusing. Uneasy Wood was always fun to tease. I smirked and reached down to grip the hem of my sweatshirt and began to pull it up provocatively. I stopped short with a painful grunt, arms held awkwardly above my head. Slick, West, very smooth. Two hands suddenly took hold of mine and helped me to pull the garment over my head and off.

I dropped my sweatshirt onto the floor at my feet, feeling very self-conscious, my face just as red as Wood's, and very aware of the fact that if Wood so desired to look, he would have an ample view of my cleavage down my white vest. But, luckily, his eyes were glued to my shoulder, and when I turned to look, I found it stained red; the strap of my vest saturated in blood. I hadn't thought the bleeding had been that bad.

"You'll never get the stains out," Wood commented conversationally. Awkwardness, how I love thee. I sighed.

"I know, I'm not bothered, it's only a vest." Wood grinned, almost shyly, and rolled the yellow sweatshirt on the floor with his foot.

"That'll be ruined too."

"It's all right, it was only the Wasps." And Wood laughed, nodding his agreement. Quidditch would always be a safe subject with us. He wiped the cloth over my neck one more time, stepped back running his eyes over my face and neck, and then nodded.

"All finished," he announced, motioning to the mirror.

I turned hesitantly towards the mirror and visibly winced at my reflection. Whilst Wood had been right, and it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had looked, it still wasn't pretty by any standards. The new and freshly opened cuts and scratches stood out angrily against my pale skin, already made to look peaky by the bruises colouring my jaw and temple. But I'd live, and that was what mattered, right? Because I would not be giving Wood, or the Slytherins, the satisfaction of my death.

I lifted my eyes to Wood, prepared to thank him, in spite of my traditional Wood-inspired defiance I felt at doing so, but was met by the sight of him staring, entranced, at something on the back of my left shoulder: a large black bruise. I could see it reflected in the mirror behind Wood, and I could see why it had caught is attention; it was very nasty looking. As if feeling my eyes on him, he raised his to meet mine in the mirror and held them. His expression was uncharacteristically open; he looked much younger, his face tinged with guilt. I smiled slightly at him, and he returned it with a small quirk of his lips.

"Thank you, Oliver," I whispered. He said nothing, but nodded and turned to leave.

I can't exactly say what happened in the bathroom, or when exactly it happened, but something between Wood and I changed. Not something that anyone else would notice, but certainly something that I notice, and something I'm sure he noticed. Whatever it was, it changed.

Only, it made things all the more difficult for me.

You have no idea

* * *

I left the bathroom and made my way back towards my bed, smiling reassuringly at the guiltily worried expressions of the other girls. They appeared to have sustained some injuries themselves, but nowhere near as bad as mine. Emma had returned at some point and sat huddled, obviously terrified, on her bed behind an extremely uncomfortable George, who looked just as scared of Emma as she did of him.

Though, I suspected Emma's discomfort was due more to the fact that George was sitting on her perfectly made bed, wrinkling her perfectly folded sheets.

Everyone had piled onto Alicia's bed, next to mine, except for Daniel, Wood and Katie, who was still sniffling miserably into Daniel's shoulder (and if I knew Katie, she was merely taking advantage of a good situation), they were spread out over my bed. I took a careful seat next to Wood, who looked over at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Right, now that we're all here then," he started to say, voice stern and authoritative, and I felt myself shiver. "I've got to say that I'm really disappointed in you lot; you're supposed to be best friends, not pounding the shit out of each other." He cast his eyes about disapprovingly, and we all bowed our heads shamefully. I realised then that Dumbledore did not have it in for me, and that there was actually a reason Wood had replaced Percy as prefect this year. He shook his head and sighed. "I'm giving the four of you detention."

There was a moment of shocked, deafening silence in which our horrified gazes held Wood, and then suddenly, all four of us were on our feet, rounding on him, voiced raised in indignation and anger.

"You can't do that."

"It was _just_ an argument."

"You're such a dick!"

Wood held his hand up to silence us, and shot me a dirty look, before turning to Alicia and Angelina. "I _can_ do it, and it quite obviously _wasn't_ 'just and argument'," he said in what I considered to be a very patronising tone. But I wasn't about to be outdone by Wood, of all people.

"You can't give me a detention, I'm a prefect as well!" I yelled indignantly, then reared back when he turned angry amber eyes on me.

"I can give detention to whomever I feel deserves one. And you four, deserve detention." He kept his voice low, but his glare said everything he hadn't. I realised something then: Wood was _scary._

"But Oliver, honestly, it was just an argument. We have then all the time!" Angelina said, slightly hysterical. Merlin knows she couldn't blemish her perfect record with a detention.

"So what I witnessed today happens all the time?" Wood asked. This was one of those rare moments when I realised that we should all just keep our mouths shut, but I was the only one who realised it.

"Yes, it does." Angelina was nodding enthusiastically. Wood was nodding thoughtfully. The girl really was an idiot for someone so smart.

"Well, I've never seen any of you looking quite like Sean does, before." I could tell by his tone that he was baiting us. How very Slytherin of him.

"Most of these were caused by the Whomping Willow yesterday," I pointed out to him, and he turned startlingly angry eyes on me again.

"Most of them would also be healed by now, if you hadn't been rolling around trying to gauge each other's eyes out." Alicia, Angelina and Katie all shifted guiltily and I felt my stomach turn. That wasn't fair.

"No! Stop making them feel guilty," I demanded furiously, and he turned a grim, mocking smile on me.

"No, Sean, he's right. We shouldn't have been fighting. Especially with the state that you're in," Alicia said quietly.

I didn't reply. I continued to hold Wood's infuriating gaze, my eyes beginning to sting from not blinking, but I knew better than to argue with him when he was in this kind of mood. It would only make things worse. When he, himself, was sure I wasn't going to say anything else he turned back to the others, my furious glare still hot on the back of his head.

"Someone could have have been seriously hurt today," he said softly. "Or, well, more so than they already were." He shot me a look out the corner of his eye and I clenched my fists. I wasn't weak, I could handle a few scraped and bruises. "And that jeopardizes the team, which in itself is wholly unacceptable, but if it had been a teacher who had found you brawling, you would have lost the house a lot of points."

The fact that what he was saying was true only made me angrier, though it was more at my own stupidity that at Wood. It still didn't stop me from blaming him, though. I crossed my arms across my chest to stop myself from lashing out at him.

"And that is why I am giving you all detentions," he finished, face considerably less hostile now, and more smug.

For the thousandth time in two days, I felt ashamed. Though why, I couldn't tell you. There was no way I was ashamed for disappointing Wood; I did it all the time, so why should this time be any different? Either way, it didn't matter. What did matter was that I knew Wood was resolute in punishing us, and frankly, we deserved it. No that I would be admitting it.

"If you give us detention, McGonagall will find out anyway, and you know what she's like, she might do something that effects the team." It was this comment, Katie's reasoning, that seemed to get Wood to reconsider the detention, and I had to give to blonde enormous credit for her efforts. Wood sat nodding his head thoughtfully.

"OK then, no detention," he finally conceded, and we all relaxed back grinning with relief. But something about the brightness in Wood's eyes unnerved me. "However," he said, quieting us, "the four of you will be doing extras. Five each. Personal sessions." He grinned, almost evilly, and I got the impression that he was quite enjoying himself.

Five extras? Personal sessions? With Wood?

Kill. Me. Now.


End file.
